Alagaesian Idol
by Pink Eraser
Summary: It's the moment you've all been waiting for folks! Only YOUR votes, you the faithful citizens of Alagaesia, will decide who will be the NEXT ALAGAESIAN IDOL!
1. The Games Begin

A/N: Yes, it's true. Idol parodies are officially everywhere. HA! This one is special; I'm not just spreading a scourge. I can tell – I can FEEL it, this is gonna be the next big thing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Paolini's stuff… or Idol's stuff… I'm NOT Ryan Seacrest (not even I'm that scary)… is that it? Oh yeah, and I don't own Mel, Jessi, or Asmodeus. And while I'm here, special thanks to the aforementioned for not suing me and my friend Muggle at Heart for helping me with Eragon's OOC-ness.

…ONWARD!

The Games Begin

"Hello-ooo?" Eragon called, his voice echoing through the pitch-black, stadium-like room. He stumbled blindly through the darkness, followed closelyby his dragon, Saphira, his involuntary beloved, Arya, his grammar error, Elva as well as Orik, Angela, Solembum, _and_ Roran and Katrina.

An oppressive silence hung in the air as the group clambered over what was apparently a metal platform. Eragon, in the dim light glimpsed a big, red button on a pedestal a few feet ahead. He marched up to it and pushed it without a second thought.

Suddenly the room was filled with swirling blue and white lights, blaring music, and the roar of the suddenly materialized crowd all around the stage that they found themselves standing on.

"What have you DONE, Argetlam?" Arya shouted mournfully over roar of the crowd, leaping down off of the stage as they desperately sought an escape route.

"I don't know, I just pushed that button over there!" Eragon cried earnestly, fighting to be heard, forcing his way brutally through the mob to keep up with the Elvish princess. Arya shot him a look that he could not interpret for all the world.

"I can't believe he effing PUSHED the big, red button!" Elva shouted from somewhere below his left knee, dodging the feet of the crowd right and left.

"I hate to say it –" Orik shouted, in a predicament similar to Elva's as they ducked safely out of the room into yet another dark and shadowy room. "But I have to agree with the lass on that one." He finished dully as Solembum joined them last, clumps of fur ripped from his coat by rabid fans. Elva ran forward to scoop him up, and everyone else slumped against the wall, panting breathlessly.

"Well, well, well…" Said a voice dripping with sarcasm. "What have we here?"

A figure came forward, summoning a burst of flame in his palm. The fire washed the room in a flickering orange-red light and a smirking Murtagh stood before them.

"Murtagh!" Eragon gasped, scandalized.

"Sharp as ever, Argetlam." The Twins said dryly, stepping into the circle oflight, soon followed by the large red dragon Thorn and a throatily chuckling Urgal leader.

"Oh, well, _excu-use_ me, Mr. _Older-than-thou_!" Eragon said sulkily. "I didn't know this room had already been booked for a League of Evil meeting!"

"It's – It's not a League of Evil meeting!" Murtagh shouted, clenching his fists so hard his hands turned white.

"It's an Evil's Anonymous meeting?" Orik said quite seriously.

"NO! It's not _anything_—" Murtagh screamed, only to be cut off by a tall red haired figure entering the circle.

"We are _looking_ for an egg." Durza drawled. "And I would venture…" He continued lazily, rounding on Eragon. "That you are here with a likewise aim."

"Oh…" Eragon said, scratching his head embarrassed. "Actually, we came here for a book-signing."

"A what?" Galbatorix asked curiously, closely followed by a large black dragon.

"Ah… you see, we're on tour…" Katrina said, carefully lining up the pads of her fingers, as Murtagh lit up the whole room.

"…And that explains the pink?" Durza asked dryly, gesturing at the pink clad crowd.

"Eragon couldn't get Arya to come…" Angela started angrily.

_Unless he let her design the tour jackets…_ Solembum growled, glowering at Arya. She blushed, the jacket complimenting her complexion perfectly, unlike poor Orik, whose red hair clashed furiously with the rosy shade of his jacket.

"You mean… you don't have the last dragon egg?" Brom asked Galbatorix cautiously, materializing from nowhere.

"No… but— hey aren't you dead!" Murtagh yelled as the Ra'zac showed up as well, completing the circle.

"You mean _you_ lot don't have the egg!" Nearly everyone in the room shouted and the room was filled with the sounds of angry bickering.

"_Roran…_" Katrina sighed pettishly, fainting as the Ra'zac glanced at her snidely. Roran caught Katrina before she hit the floor, but ruined the gesture by dropping her suddenly to catch Eragon who had also fainted at the sight of Brom.

"Dead people these days…" Roran muttered rebelliously, trying to revive his two charges in the chaos of the room.

"_Pssst— Angela! —Angela over here!_" Brom hissed, pulling her behind a table on its side. She looked at him sharply.

"You can shed some light-from-beyond-the-grave _anytime now._" Angela said wryly. He grinned at her sheepishly.

"Well, actually the only explanation for this is either apocalypse or somethingcalled _fanfi_…" Brom fortunately caught the spellbound look on Angela's face, getting serious. "Eh, I'll explain it later, but I think we might be able to get a few people out the back before—"

"Hello!" A short, frizzy-haired girl cried, popping up on the other side of the table and scaring the bejesus out of Brom and Angela. "Sorry to interrupt, but the show's about to start."

"The… show?" Brom winced.

"_Yes, now hurry up._" An equally short boy said sharply from behind her. Angela and Brom joined the recently reorganized circle.

"I'm Ryann Oceanwave also known as Pink!" The frizzy-haired girl said again. "Welcome to Alagaesian Idol!"

"Alagaesian what!" Murtagh cried.

"_Idol._" She said impatiently. "You'll all be singing, and the best one wins!" She looked uncertainly at the Jessi girl who nodded and the dark-haired boy muttered, "_Suck-up_."

"Anyways, these are your three judges. This is Mel—" She said pointing at the dark-haired girl.

"Yo dawgs." Mel said cheerfully.

"Jessi—" She said pointing at the waving girl. "And last and most certainly least, is Asmodeus. But you can call him Simon for now." The odd girl said exchanging glares with the evil boy. "Any questions?"

"Yeah." Elva said, the only one on the eye level of the four insane strangers. "Why do you expect us to comply?" The four exchanged overt malevolent glances.

"Well, I suppose you don't _have_ to…" Mel sighed.

"…but you know that egg you've been after for a while? It just so happens we've got it…" Jessi said with a huge grin plastered across her face.

"…and it goes to the best singer." Asmodeus smirked, much to the dismay of the people crowded around them.

"Yeah, we figured that rider's _are_ the closest things you lot have to celebrities anyway… and the third rider _does_ tip the scales quite a bit…" Pink said thoughtfully, as Murtagh and Eragon preened subconsciously.

"I've got a question." Durza volunteered. "Isn't Ryan a guy's name?"

"_NO! Ryann's a girl's name! I'm a girl! And you are up first Duzie!_" Pink shouted angrily, catching the shade off-guard with the weird nickname and shoving him on stage.

"I guess this is war." Eragon said, finally coming to, offering his hand to Murtagh sportily.

"It always was war you idiot!" Murtagh spat, following the others into the main stadium. Eragon sighed and glanced at Asmodeus, who was watching them go and chuckling to himself.

"…Let the games begin."

--

_A/N: Hurrah! Finally, I've posted my first (what I intend to be) humor fic. I was going to wait until I got permission __from Mel to use her character… but I got bored. Kudos to my buds down at A Shadeslayer's Worst Fear for inspiring me._

_Ciao, Pinky_

_P.S. Review. As of now your cursor is magnetically attracted to purple._


	2. Durza

_A/N: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I never ever, in a million years even _dreamt_ that I could get twenty reviews on a single chapter. –heartclutch- And with that kind of response, I figured, why not mess with a good thing?_

_So here's the deal: follow the link below if you feel so inclined. It'll take you to a slideshow of Durza fanart set to the song he sings, courtesy of my deranged mind. _

_EDIT: Okay, so I wish that I could link to it. I'm a failure, and thus can't figure out HOW to post a link to another website. -sigh- Oh well. If you go to YouTube and search Alagaesian Idol, it SHOULD be the only thing that comes up. If you can't find and still wanna see it, just PM me. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Paolini or any of his characters, I don't own David Byrne or the Talking Heads, I don't own or claim to have drawn any of the fanart in the video, I don't own Asmodeus, Mel, Jessi, Carly… heck, I don't even know if I own myself. I might've have sold my soul for reviews… I'm not sure. How else could I have managed to get that many with this fanfic? _

Durza, Duzie. Don't Ask. Please.

"So you want me to sing and dance – while wearing _this?_" Durza spat indignantly, brandishing a skimpy bright red thong. The red-haired judge known as Jessi nodded fervently.

"Wait— wait— _what?_" Asmodeus interrupted, waving his arms around, frantically battling the horrific mental images. "No one agreed to that kind of abuse!"

"Jessi, sweetie, this is _public broadcasting_." The fabulous host, Pink, said slowly. "There can _be_ no wardrobe malfunctions."

"Wait— wait— _what?_"

Durza attempted a fierce glare in Brom's general direction (as he had previously been beaming at him rather gloatingly) as the four midgets crowded around him and began squabbling.

"But what's keeping us here? The egg? Those kids?" Murtagh growled a short while away, completely ignoring his comrade's pain. He pondered this laboriously, crouched and waiting, when suddenly, he had an epiphany. "Why don't we just go on a murderous rampage, behead them all, and take the egg for ourselves?"

"Yeah, who's to say we can't just kill you all and leave with the egg?" Murtagh cried, who, startled by the brilliance of his own idea, dropped Zar'roc with a clatter and grabbed an unsuspecting midget by the collar. "Who's gonna stop us? The government?" He continued with a rather disgruntled expression, jerking his head towards the corner where Galbatorix was sobbing onto the shoulder of a very repulsed Twin.

"Hi! My name's Carly and I'm glad that I finally had a chance to meet you all. I'm—" The little girl said cheerfully, completely ignoring the threat on her life, her cheeriness verging on disconcerting.

"_Oh _no you don't. I'm notputting up with another one of those little 'all about me' sessions you crazy midgets are so fond of giving out. I don't _care_ about the meaning of your name, your occupation, your blood-type, _or_ you're pet peeves, all I want to know is how long you're planning on keeping us here. I don't know what you're expecting from us but you're not getting it, and _I_ for one—" Eragon started sourly, obviously frustrated, having snatched the seemingly complacent girl from Murtagh.

What Eragon _didn't _know, was that the Carly girl was grinning over Eragon's shoulder and had winked suggestively at Murtagh, who immediately froze with a distinctly nauseous expression on his face, as did another short girl.

"I don't know what you're expecting from us, but…" Eragon tried again half-heartedly, after shooting the still frozen and horrified Murtagh a concerned look, when he was cut off sharply by a slightly cracked and cursed toddler.

"_Vile Temptress!_" Elva shrieked with a distinctly Transylvanian accent, preparing to run the lecherous midget through with her newly claimed Zar'roc, having found it conveniently within her reach. "_Prepare to Perish by Mine Hand._"

Carly looked little more than vaguely vexed, but as Elva charged, wielding a sword twice her weight, she was struck by a bolt of vengeful lightning with a _CRACK!_

Murtagh snapped out of his reverie and proceeded to look highly disappointed.

"That certainly sets Project 'Murderous Rampage' back quite a bit." Arya smirked, watching Murtagh retrieve his sword from the collapsed and smoking Shield of Sorrow.

"It was worth a shot…" Murtagh muttered malevolently.

Orik eyed Thorn suspiciously as Roran stepped in between the two, throwing the unconscious Elva over the shoulder that wasn't already hefting the still unconscious Katrina.

_Fried… and bite-sized too…_ The red dragon commented snidely, not needing telepathy to know what was on the bearded dwarf's mind as Orik's eyes darted surreptitiously between the little girl over Roran's shoulder and the hulking dragon.

Orik glared and Thorn grinned ridiculously, revealing several rows of teeth and the real reason why dwarves don't really enjoy the company of dragons.

"Why'd you go and do that?" Eragon winced helplessly, still dangling the Carly girl helplessly, forgetting the danger of threatening an electrified midget. "Elva… she's most probably got more issues than even _you_—"

_CRACK! CRACK! _

Eragon crumpled to the ground, sufficiently fried by two sporadic strikes of lightning upon his head, and Carly scampered off victoriously. Roran howled with the frustration, having run out of shoulders upon which to heft the unconscious.

"Who put _me _in charge of the invalids?" Roran bemoaned piteously, kicking Eragon repeatedly. "People call me Roran _Stronghammer._ I'm not cut out for this kind of sugar job!"

_Au contraire— it's your maternal instinct that got you the job, Rory,_ Solembum thought dryly. Saphira sneezed rather conveniently, and Roran shot them both a wilting glare as he attempted to kick Eragon out of the way of the rabid incoming crowd.

The lights began to dim as the decidedly short masses rushed to fill the room, and before any more freak lightning could strike or Orik could take a battle axe to Thorn's head, a spotlight lit the stage.

"Welcome, one and all, to the first ever broadcasting of ALAGAESIAN IDOL!" Pink announced grandly to the cheering and nearly forgotten crowds surrounding the stage. "Coming right up, is our resident Shade and all round bad guy, _Durza_, with his rendition of _Psycho Killer _from the Talking Heads."

Backstage, Durza (fully clothed) was trying to remember if he knew enough English to read off of a teleprompter, as well as trying to figure out what a teleprompter was.

"Why am I doing this again?" Durza asked himself piteously. "I mean, the glory of a Shade _hardly_ warrants a need for a dragon. And it's not as though my _loyalties _come into play at all in—"

_CRACK!_

"Right, right." The shade amended hastily, his spirits dropping even lower as he surveyed the damage the miserable lightning had done to his favorite black velvet cloak. "I suppose it's too late now anyway…"

"I'm glad you understand the situation." Asmodeus scowled, coming up behind Durza and shoving him onstage as the opening to the song played for the third time. He stumbled up to the mic with his eyes closed, putting his panic attacks and the crackling of thunder behind him. He opened one eye and wrapped unsteady hands around the mic.

"Can't seem to face up to the facts— I'm tense and nervous, can't relax." Durza started quietly, carrying the tune shakily. He winced, realizing he really needed his eyes open to read the teleprompter, promptly closing them again when he spotted Arya whistling.

"Can't sleep— bed's on fire. Don't touch me— I'm a real livewire." Durza continued warily.

Paula— that is, _Jessi_— got out of her seat and started stomping along with the power chords, because there's no way she could sit and _watch_ like a normal judge, oh no. Some individuals in the crowd joined in, putting Durza more on edge than should really be possible.

"Psycho killer!" _STOMP STOMP!_ "Qu'est-ce que c'est!" He belted desperately. "Fa-fa-fa-faa-fa-fa-fafa-faaa-faar better…" _STOMP STOMP! _"Run run!" _STOMP STOMP! _"Run run run _awaaay!_ Hu-hu-hu-huuu— Huuh-aye-aye-aye-ayee!" _STOMP STOMP!_ "Psycho killer—"

Just as the singing thing was getting to be a bit monotonous, Durza stumbled again and a dart whizzed through his red hair, shattering the tall screen behind him. The Shade did not waste any time, and threw himself to the floor as he spotted two more blow darts headed his way. The first flew past Durza's ear, splintering a conditional light fixture, killing the lights. The second, however, flew true and caught Durza between the forefinger and thumb on his flailing right arm.

Several helpful individuals in the audience let out a blood-curdling screams in the semi-darkness. The lights flickered back with only minor reluctance, and the electrical Carly midget was observing Durza with mild interest.

"_Is there a doctor in the house!_" Jessi and Pink cried forlornly as one from the stage.

The obvious response to this query was, of course, the mass convergence of doctor-_like _individuals on stage, each trying to convince the other of the proper course action— in other words, there was a chaotic throng of pretentious, bickering midgets between Durza and any sane physician. As well as several hundred miles and a continent or two.

_A/N: Le gasp! Well, I'm hoping Durza lives. Heh, I'm also hoping Carly doesn't mind being the muscle of the operation. _

_Be sure to stop by A Shadeslayer's Worst Fear, and to thank my wonderfully witty beta Asmodeus who, besides the fact that he'll laugh at me about spelling beard wrong till the end of time, was actually very helpful (go figure). _

_Ciao, Pinky_

_P.S. Should I say it? I don't wanna jinx myself. _

_P.S.S. Debating. Still debating._

_P.S.S. Caving! Caving!_

_P.S.S.S. Eep! Please review! _


End file.
